Blood Infection
by Rare-Uploader
Summary: After one of the survivors is critically injured, the group's dynamic changes until they're at each other's throats, and Nick just doesn't understand why Ellis is being so awkward. This story is intended to be realistic in language, themes, and plot development. Realism, Angst, Fighting, Swearing, Violence, Blood, Nick/Ellis. Rated M for harsh swearing, and scenes of violence.
1. Grey Skies

Chapter 1 - Grey Skies

Coach wiped the sweat off his head with the back of his glove. The morning sky was grey, and it was already stuffy in the little house in South Carolina.

Coach had been on guard duty for more than four hours, and had the last shift. He checked his digital watch that displayed the time, date and the label Casio. It was 07:32. All had been quiet, and he was mainly looking out at the empty street as wind blew across the pavement.

It had been nearly eight months since he'd met the group of survivors he now found himself guarding. It was summertime, and when the sun finally broke the wall of clouds, Coach could say it was morning.

He woke up Nick first, as he usually did. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Hey, Coach" he said groggily.

Coach gently shook Rochelle by her shoulder next. She always slept lightly, and she opened her eyes instantly. Sometimes Coach wondered if she was actually ever sleeping.

Now for Ellis, who slept so deeply the world could end and he would never even know it. He pushed on Ellis's back a few times. He kept sleeping.

Nick grumbled a little, kicked him in the side, and Ellis finally woke up.

"Owwwwww!" He groaned. He picked up his new hat and tugged it onto his head angrily. After the survivors had realized they were going to be staying together for the foreseeable future, they had ditched their old clothes when they found a mostly untouched outlet store.

"What do y'all got to eat?" Coach asked.

Ellis picked up his backpack and dug through it. "All I have left is two cans of corn and a can of string beans."

Everyone else had only a pack of crackers and a bottle of juice between them. Coach sighed.

He had lost maybe fifty pounds since this whole thing had gone down.

In fact, every one of the survivors had lost a lot of weight, Nick especially. He had muscle, but no fat on his body anywhere. If he turned right, you could see his ribs through his shirt. Coach had only recently even _realized_ how much everyone had changed, mentally and physically.

Nick was no longer anywhere near as sarcastic and hostile as he used to be, but those traits were still right there if you got him mad.

Rochelle remained kind and sympathetic, but only to her group. Another survivor had tried to steal their supplies, so Rochelle shot him in the back of the head as he ran away. Additionally, she'd changed her braids long ago, and her hair had a fuzzy natural look that Nick had called 'cute'.

Coach no longer spent his free time daydreaming about food and sports. He was grounded firmly in the present, and couldn't stop thinking for a single minute about how he was going to protect his people. He was the official leader, and that heavy burden fell on his shoulders. He felt it every day. When anything went wrong, Coach felt responsible. Nobody else really blamed him, but he couldn't shake the guilt.

As for Ellis… he rarely made jokes now, strange as it seemed. He could still smile, but he didn't show it much, if ever. Being in a literal apocalypse changed you. Who knew?

Coach shouldered his pack and said, "I'm gonna go check out that pharmacy we went by. Couldn't hurt to get some more antibiotics and pills."

"I'll come with," Ellis offered, and stood up instantly.

"That's alright, Ellis. I'll be right back."

One good thing about being so far into the end of the world was that pretty much all of the 'special infected' had died out, along with a lot of the common ones. Coach hadn't seen a witch, tank or boomer in months. Nick thought it was maybe because they had killed each other. Rochelle guessed that their bodies were too unstable, but none of them knew for sure.

Coach didn't care, as long as they were dead. Coach closed the door behind him and stepped onto the sidewalk. His rifle was pressed into his shoulder blade, and the strap around it clung to his chest uncomfortably. The breeze echoed through the silent street. Coach saw a lone infected staggering after him, but he ignored it for now. There was work to be done.

Back at the house, Nick caught Ellis staring at him and looked away, annoyed.

Rochelle walked past. "Nick, can you please help me wash these clothes? They're disgusting."

Nick nodded and followed her. There was a large tub of water that had been boiled that was exclusively for laundry. The water had to be replaced every three or so times, which Nick thought was too infrequent, but they couldn't spare the water.

Ellis thought it was far too _frequent_, and had said so many times. _Who cares if the clothes have less blood on them?_ But Coach and Rochelle were used to a more hygienic lifestyle, and sided with Nick.

Rochelle picked up a shirt from the pile and dunked it into the water. Nick stooped down and grabbed some jeans. They belonged to Coach, from the look of them. The two sat there for several minutes, the only sounds were splashes of water and the scrubbing against an old washboard they'd found.

They heard Ellis close the front door. He was making rounds near the house to make sure there weren't any infected nearby.

"So what's with you and Ellis?" Rochelle asked with a confused look on her pretty face. Nick turned his attention even more to the clothes he was scrubbing.

"What are you talking about?" He asked, hoping he didn't sound like a moron.

"Just that you keep giving him dirty looks. And that you kicked him earlier to wake him up. And that-"

"Okay, okay, I get it!" Nick shook his head. "I'll tell you, but we keep this under wraps, alright?"

Rochelle nodded like a child. It'd been so long since she'd heard something interesting, especially from Nick.

"Ellis… kind of… maybe caught me praying the other day."

Rochelle didn't tease him like he expected, and he found himself continuing; "It's just embarrassing because I've always sort of laughed at those religious morons who pray to someone who isn't there. I was being a hypocrite." he said.

"Oh, Nick, is that all it is?" Rochelle asked, slightly disappointed.

He grinned at her. "I'm sorry my religious endeavors aren't interesting to you, sweetheart."

She smiled back and splashed him with a bit of water.

* * *

Coach pushed the door open with minimal effort. Sweat was now running freely down his back. He shifted his shoulders and stepped into the pharmacy.

There was all sorts of stuff in there. It was about a thirty minute walk just one way, so the group had only been once or twice, when Rochelle had a severe fever, way back in April, and they were seriously considering the possibility that she would die.

Coach swung his legs over the counter and almost immediately regretted it. Damn knee. He grabbed some bottles of Advil, Tylenol, and other painkillers. Then some penicillin, clindamycin and something called ciprofloxacin.

Coach could never read those long-ass names, but he sure as shit knew what antibiotics were, so they went into the bag too. Coach zipped up the pack and froze. Hissing. Groaning. Coach slipped over to the windows and looked through without making a sound. Maybe forty infected were moving through the area in a slow, concentrated herd. Coach's blood ran cold. He could never handle that many on his own.

He looked down and resigned himself to waiting it out.

* * *

Nick and Ellis were sitting alone in the main room of the house. It had been cleared of debris when they first arrived, leaving only their sleeping bags and a large couch. Nick was pretending to be busy with cleaning his shoelace. Ellis looked at him through the corner of his eyes, not moving his head. "It was clear outside," he said.

Nick looked at him. "I'm sorry,"

Ellis looked unconcerned. Nick continued, "I was just embarrassed because I give you and Coach shit for believing in God all the time. I'm a hypocrite, I guess. But I'm sorry."

Ellis tilted his head. "You don't have to be sorry, man. You're allowed to change your mind about things, y'know."

Nick nodded and gave him a smile. There was a slightly awkward gap in the conversation that was negated by Rochelle coming back into the house. She slammed her backpack into the ground and pulled out some new cans of food. "Bon appetit! I found a house with food in the garage." She looked around. "I thought Coach would be back by now."

Ellis stood up. "Hey, me too. He should be. Do you want me to go after him?"

"If you want. I bet he's okay, but I guess we should double check." She replied.

Ellis closed the door behind him. The sun was overhead, but a little more toward the west. It was maybe two or three in the afternoon. Ellis didn't think time mattered much any more, but it was a habit to wonder anyway. As he walked, his gaze followed the horizon.

A red mountain bike he found a while ago was leaning against the fence. He hadn't ridden a bike in years before that, but as everybody always said, he did remember how to ride it again right away. It was actually surprising to realize how fast he was going compared to walking.

He figured it would have taken him about half an hour to get there normally. But on the bike it took a little more than twelve minutes. But before he turned down the street, he screeched to a halt. The noise was deafening. Without even seeing them, Ellis knew there must have been dozens. _That's why Coach couldn't leave, _he thought

.

He circled back and found a ladder leading up to the roof of a building across the street. He scaled it quickly and surveyed the area. He felt his stomach sink. He estimated there were about eighty to ninety infected people covering the street. Ellis took his binoculars out of his bag and checked out the pharmacy.

There was no movement inside. Nothing was broken down or bloodied, so they hadn't found Coach yet. Good. Ellis started working out a plan. His mind was sharper from having to survive in the shithole that the world had become for so long. He considered what he had on him and in his bag.

A pipe bomb, a book, a keychain that said _Midnight Riders_, a .38 pistol, six extra bullets, a flashlight, a knife, two pairs of clothes and a photograph of his family that he'd kept in his wallet. Oh, and a wallet with exactly three dollars in it that he couldn't bear to get rid of. He wiped the sweat off his forehead and knew what he was going to do.

Coach's leg hurt from crouching for so long. He was hungry and pissed off. Sweaty, too. Charleston was too damn hot. But it was beautiful and safer than many other places, so they'd been content to stay for a long time. Coach glanced out the window. He thought he saw movement from across the street up high, but it was probably just a stupid bird or something.

Coach was really bored, and he didn't want to be separated from his group for so long. He sat back, letting the ache relieve itself from his leg. Just then, one of the loudest explosions he'd ever heard scared the shit out of him, almost literally. It sounded far away, but every single zombie on the street jerked their head up at the same time, and then they were stampeding over each other to get to the sound first, clawing and kicking.

Coach blinked in surprise, but he was no idiot. As soon as they were a safe distance away, he quietly eased the door open and snuck across the street towards home. He knew that explosion was no accident, but who'd done it? Probably not Nick or Rochelle, they weren't so… unrefined usually. Coach heard the click of a bike chain behind him and drew his gun as he spun around.

"Woah, Coach, it's me!" Ellis's sweaty, tanned face was surprised, and a little cheeky, too.

"What the hell did you do, boy? That shit saved my ass!" He laughed and clapped Ellis on the back. Coach didn't notice that Ellis was holding his own left hand tightly.

"I'll tell you when we get home. It was nuts."

Ellis opened the first front door and held it open for Coach. Rochelle heard this and opened the second. There were two doors separated by a long porch in between that had a rail on one side, like a lot of Charleston homes had.

"Coach! I'm so happy you're okay!" She said and hugged him.

"Thanks to Ellis, I'm just fine. He pulled some crazy shit. What the hell did you do back there?" He asked, turning towards him.

Ellis took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair. "I'll tell ya when I'm good and ready," He teased.

Rochelle laughed and elbowed him. "Come on inside."

* * *

"So I lit the pipe bomb, chucked it at the propane tanks I stacked up, and got the hell out of there. I had to circle back so they wouldn't see me, but there were two or three by my bike that I had to kill, and I eventually caught up with Coach." Ellis said, making animated hand gestures to accompany his story.

Rochelle raised her eyebrow; "That wasn't such a crazy story." She just wanted to get a rise out of him, mostly. Ellis just gave her a rare smile.

"Yeah, well I was just glad you did it when you did. I was gettin' tired of sitting on my ass." Coach said.

"That's a first," Nick said, grinning cheekily.

They laughed.

"Well, next time you can come help me, _Nicholas_." Coach replied, saying his name like it was a sin on Sunday.

"I do hope you guys are alright, but-" Rochelle began, but was interrupted by Ellis, who had moved to the window.

"Shhhhh." He nodded his head toward the window. Nick snuck over and looked out too. There were about a dozen zombies wandering their street. It was too dark to see if there were any more of them.

Nick waved his hand at Coach, and the older man silently turned off the lantern they were using.

Nick and Ellis returned to the others. Ellis whispered, "Should I go around the back and kill 'em?"

Nick shook his head. "There might be more than we can see. I'll go too." So the two men opened the back door and the screen behind it and stepped outside. The night was still hot. It was so hot during the day all the time that you just got used to it, but at night the heat was strange. Thicker, somehow.

Nick ran his fingers over the machete at his belt. The grip was reassuring. He got behind one of them silently and stabbed into its' brain from the neck. It fell to the ground without even a thump. Ellis did the same out of the corner of Nick's eye.

They cleared the street without much of a problem, except that the last one got wise to their situation and tried to bite Nick. He stabbed it in the side of the head with his other hand, and got lost in thought.

The details concerning the infection were a little fuzzy. Nick knew that it was a non-genetic sickness that a very small number of the population was immune to. But in all the zombie stuff he'd ever heard of, you got bit by a zombie and then you turned into one.

Way back when they first met her, Rochelle had gotten bit on her leg, and actually still had the scar, now that he thought of it. But she hadn't turned, and had gotten ahold of some antibiotics.

But that raised the question - were non-immune people able to be infected by bites? Or water? Or even the air? Nick thought about it and guessed it was all of them. He hadn't seen any infected animals, just dead ones.

He'd talked to Rochelle about it before, but they had no way of knowing for certain if other continents were infected. Ellis thought it was aliens. _That damn kid, why would it be-_

Nick was so lost in thought that he barely heard Ellis yell, "NICK, GET DOWN!"

He only turned in time to see a hunter lunging straight at his face.


	2. Injuries

Chapter 2 - Injuries

Nick woke up slowly, and after what felt like a long time. He was laying on his sleeping bag inside the house. His shirt was removed, and there were large pads of gauze all across his abdomen. For a second, there was nothing, but then the pain started. He opened his mouth and tried to scream, but a small hand clapped over his mouth.

"Nick! It's Rochelle. You have to be quiet; there's a shit-ton of zombies around!" She slowly removed her hand from his mouth. She was sitting near him. He gritted his teeth together and felt tears leak out of his eyes.

"Ro? What... happened?" he whispered.

She shook her head and held her finger to her mouth. _Be quiet_. Ellis and Coach were gone. There was only the sound of a few crickets nearby. But then… there was hissing and screeches far away. Maybe a quarter mile, from the volume. Rochelle stood up and went to the window.

She chewed her thumbnail and pulled back the curtain. There was nothing out there. No Ellis or Coach either. She looked over at Nick. The survivors had gotten caught by hunters before, but there was always someone right there to get them off of you, and kill them next.

It was even more unfortunate because there were almost no specials left, so he was attacked off-guard. What were the odds of them even running into a hunter? Especially in a city that was normally very quiet?

Either way, Ellis had been about forty feet from Nick, and only his shotgun. He couldn't risk shooting Nick, too. So by the time he got there, things looked bad. Much of his abdomen had been clawed. Some of the cuts weren't deep, but there was one swipe that had taken a small chunk of his side. He had lost a lot of blood.

Coach and Ellis had been on damage control, leading the new, wandering zombies away from the camp. They'd been gone for nearly an hour, and she'd been on her own to treat the single most horrific injury the group had ever endured. He'd soaked through blankets and bandages faster than they could be replaced, but it was seeming to ebb a little.

That wound would certainly need to be stitched. He would probably get an infection unless they were cleaned soon.

"Ro," he croaked. She was at his side in a second. "Am I gonna die?" he asked, looking her straight in the eye. Nick did not want to be lied to. Ever.

She bit her lip, and said, "We're going to try to get you to that clinic after the guys get back. If we can, you should be okay." She hoped he couldn't read her face as well as he normally could. There was only a small chance he would make it there. Thomas was a survivor they'd run into back near Savannah. He'd been living in an old abandoned clinic. He'd been a doctor for thirty years, and if they could trade him enough supplies, he'd help Nick.

It was a two day walk (with rest), but a much shorter drive. If they could take the pickup truck they had, which was only for emergencies, which this definitely was, it would take a couple hours at most. But those hours were what she was worried about; he had already lost too much blood, and was pale and cold.

Finally, Rochelle heard Ellis knock at the door and come in. He said, "Ro, get the truck ready. I'mma get Nick with Coach and load him in." She nodded and ran outside.

"Okay Coach, we're gonna lift him on three. Ready? One, two, three!" The two men lifted him with the plank they'd had the foresight to find before they brought him in earlier.

Nick groaned and they slowly brought him to the back of the pickup. Getting him onto the truck bed was awkward, but once he was in, Coach ran and shut the trunk. He hopped into the driver's side and gunned it. They had a little bit of gas, but they would have to siphon some before they could return. Ellis was sitting in the back with Nick, with all the bags hastily shoved by their feet. It was going to be a long drive.

An hour and forty-five minutes later, Coach was still speeding down the highway. There were cars that had to be avoided sometimes, but he knew he had to hurry as much as possible. Rochelle was sitting next to him, all her muscles tight and afraid.

She knew one of them was going to die eventually. It was the end of the world, and that kind of shit happened, no matter how much you wish it didn't. But they'd survived so much together. They were all closer, as a group, than anyone she'd ever known. Even though Nick had been shitty and private since they met, he'd opened up to her and told her about his life before the apocalypse a few times.

He had a crippling gambling addiction that left him bankrupt, and he'd scammed people and stolen from rich folks for a long time. He loved his sister Jennie, and helped pay for her chemo with money he'd stolen. But she didn't know about that part, and she still had thought he was a good person, and she died peacefully and happily in her sleep about a year before the outbreak started.

Nick loved reading horror stories and hated germs, so Rochelle figured he was at least halfway happy with the zombie apocalypse. She glanced back at Ellis. He was resting his hand against Nick's forehead. She had always thought Ellis looked up to Nick a little more than should have. Nick was no role model, even after almost everyone else on Earth was dead or dying.

Ellis caught her looking and took his hand back. He was worried about Nick, and was upset that he'd let something like this happen to him. He knew that if Nick died, it would be Ellis's fault. He didn't think he could live with that guilt. He had never known he could love people that weren't actually his family as much as he loved those three.

He closed his eyes to pray that they would get there soon, and that Nick would be alright. It went something like this; _Dear Lord, please protect Nick and give him enough time to be healed. And if it is his time to go, please let it be quick, and help us deal with our grief. Take pity on us; he's a good man. He might not have been before, but I know he is now. Amen._

Coach called back, "Almost there. We don't know if Thomas still is, though. Ellis, you and Ro are gonna go check it out while I protect the car." They turned onto a familiar street. The clinic was at the end of the road. Coach pulled in and shut the engine off. The two people jumped out and headed up to the door.

There weren't a lot of zombies around, thank God. Rochelle knocked on the metal door and said in a low voice, "Thomas? Are you in there? We need your help! One of ours got mangled up pretty bad."

For a solid minute there was no response. She knocked again. "Thomas! Please help him! He's going to die!"

Ellis had enough. He yelled, "If you don't open this goddamn door I'mma break it down and make you help us!"

Rochelle glanced at him. He was panting and sweaty. His nostrils were flared up, just like they always did when he was mad. He slid the pistol out of her holster and aimed at the lock.

"Ellis, no-" She started, but he already had fired it. She covered her ears, and he shoved the door open and started kicking down another wooden one that had been shoddily attached to the jam. He got it down and slowly entered the building.

He lifted his flashlight and looked around. There was a horrible smell coming from behind the counter, and closer inspection revealed a body. It was certainly Thomas, judging by the doctor's coat and thick glasses, though he had decomposed a lot.

Rochelle felt vomit rise into her throat and she gagged on the smell.

Coach drummed his fingers impatiently against the steering wheel and sighed. He saw Ellis running out to the car, so he rolled down the window.

"Coach, I don't know what to do, man. He's dead."

Coach rubbed his head and said, "Could we take care of Nick in there? They got medicine and stuff?"

Ellis shook his head and shrugged. "I didn't really look. Whatever we do it's gotta be soon. Nick's gonna bleed out before too long."

Coach told Ellis to stay with the truck. He joined Rochelle inside. They found hydrogen peroxide, sutures, medical books, intravenous needles and bags. Coach grimly knew what was going to have to be done.

He and Ellis carried Nick inside, and Coach relayed orders, "We gotta do some nasty shit right now. Rochelle, you gonna look through those books and figure out how to put an IV into somebody. Then, we're gonna need to get him blood from somewhere. We ain't good at this shit, but it's damn sure better than nothing."

Rochelle's brother had been a nurse, and when she was in high school, she'd shadowed him for a day. He had had to do some gross things, and he'd explained everything he was doing for the whole shift. It seemed pretty damn complicated. Rochelle figured that if the bleeding didn't kill Nick, they would while trying to help him. But she did what Coach asked and started looking through the books.

Coach turned to Ellis. "Alright, you and me are gonna lift him onto this bed over here. Without the board, so we have to be really careful. After that, we're gonna do everything Ro says, okay?"

Ellis nodded, trying look strong. Medical stuff had always freaked him out more than most people. He couldn't even watch the surgery in shows that his grandma always had on. But Nick was going to die otherwise, so he promised himself he'd do everything necessary. Once Nick was on the bed, Coach looked at Rochelle. "What you got?"

"We're gonna need a thick catheter for the needle, gloves, a disinfectant wipe and a tourniquet."

They gathered up all those things, and Rochelle decided she was going to have to do it. Ellis held the light up. She took Nick's left arm, tightened the tourniquet a little around his bicep, and looked for a vein. She saw one, and wiped it with the peroxide they found. She took a deep breath and tried to prepare herself for what she was about to do.

She put the catheter on the new needle, looked at the vein, and slowly pushed it into the skin. There was a splash of blood that came from the catheter, and she knew she'd done it right. They weren't done yet, though. She pulled the needle part out, but pushed the catheter in a little deeper. She kept going until the needle was free of the skin. She got some tape (there was only the clear kind) and carefully and loosely secured the 'hub' to his arm.

She drew in a shaky breath and looked back into the book. _Make certain to discard the needle into a well-marked biohazard container. _She laughed a little and put it into the container on the wall anyway. The IV had already been connected to a saline bag. They were going to have to give him blood soon. But for now, she needed to know who actually could give him blood.

"Coach, Ellis, what blood types are you?" She really hoped they knew.

"I'm A negative." Coach said.

Ellis made a face and looked up, like he was trying to remember. "I think I'm… well shit, I don't know."

Rochelle knew that she was O positive. She looked at Nick. He was laying with his eyes open and hadn't complained when she put the IV in, but was definitely breathing. "Nick, sweetie, I need to know what blood type you are. It's really important." She put her ear to his mouth.

He didn't say anything for a moment. Then, "AB negative."

She scanned the book, grinned and said, "Ok, great, you can get blood from Coach. That's really lucky." She started flipping through the book to 'drawing blood'. She got a new needle and a blood tube and filled up the bag efficiently. He winced, but it was over soon. She gave Coach a bandage.

"Here comes the hard part." Rochelle said and looked at them. "I'm gonna clean his wounds, but somebody else is gonna have to stitch the small hole in his side together. I'm not doing that."

Coach sighed and said, "I'll do it. I had to learn how when I started as the coach of the football team a few years back."

"I didn't know you were a coach…" Nick said and breathily laughed. The others looked at him, surprised, and he winced and laid still again.

Rochelle removed the brown gauze from his abdomen and sighed. "Let's get to it."

Coach and Ellis had to hold Nick down while he screamed and Rochelle poured the peroxide on his cuts. They foamed almost immediately, and Ro knew they must have stung like hell. She counted fifteen long gashes and one very deep one total, but they criss crossed over each other and looked nasty. Long cloth bandages had to be wrapped around his whole torso. The whole ordeal took a very long time, and when the time came for Coach to try to stitch the cut, everyone was exhausted.

Coach put gloves on and got ready to start but Nick grabbed his arm and said, "Coach...please. Please...don't."

Coach looked up helplessly and Rochelle sighed. "Nick, we have to close the wound. If we don't, it won't heal."

He seemed like he was weighing his options.

"Come on, Nick, it'll be fast. I'm sure Coach knows what he's doing." Ellis said.

"...Fine." Nick whispered. Coach nodded and did it. He knew that it felt like a bitch, but if it wasn't done, Nick could die.

When it was over, Rochelle wrapped more gauze around it and the job was done. Coach checked his watch. 03:48am. The moon was bright out there, but there were no zombies to be seen.

"I'll take the first watch, y'all." Ellis said from behind them. No one wanted to argue, and they fell asleep almost immediately until 08:30.

The following day, Rochelle checked on Nick. His blood bag had run empty a long time ago, but he had taken some painkillers and wasn't soaking through the bandages. He still looked really thin and pale, but a lot better overall.

"See? You feel way better, huh?" Rochelle said. He didn't move for a moment, and then opened an eye.

"Maybe." He said lightly.

It was time to draw more blood from Coach. His arm was displaying bruising, so Rochelle would have to use the other one.

Later, Nick sat up slightly and nibbled on some crackers they found. Only one of his strips of gauze had blood that soaked through. Rochelle felt his forehead with the back of her hand. He didn't have a fever. She moved to put her hand back at her side, but he caught it with his own. He looked her in the eyes and said, "Thank you."

She smiled and rubbed her thumb against his fingers. "Any time." They held the gaze for a minute, and Ellis cleared his throat at them. They dropped their hands and glared at him.

"What? I didn't do nothin'." Ellis said with an uncharacteristic amount of attitude and sauntered out the door to check on Coach.

Rochelle turned back to her patient. "I'm sorry, but I've got to try to change those bandages and check on the gash in your side."

Nick winced. "How about we just don't?"

She made a sympathetic face. "Sorry, gambling man. If it gets infected we're gonna be up shit creek. I'll try to be careful."

The long ordeal was over forty minutes later, and Nick had lost what little pallor he had, and fell asleep almost immediately after. At 11:30pm, Coach told her it was her watch, so she went to fetch Ellis from outside. He was sitting on the curb. A humid gust of wind was blowing outside.

Rochelle called, "I can take over now."

But he sat there and didn't say anything. She drew closer and sat next to him. He looked straight ahead. "Do you like Nick?" he asked.

"Huh?" She felt her face grow hot.

"Do you like Nick?" He asked again.

She paused before saying, "Um, I love him as much as I love all of you. I don't like him that way, though."

Ellis stood up and brushed off his pants. "Sorry to make y'all uncomfortable."

"Wait!" Rochelle called at his back as he walked away. "Why do you care?"

But he didn't respond.

Nick woke up and cried out in pain. But he felt a rough hand on his forehead, and a voice he knew too well. "Relax, Nick. It's me."

He closed his eyes. "What the hell happened before we got here, Ellis?"

Ellis' thumb gently stroked Nick's hair and he said quietly, "A hunter got you. I couldn't risk shooting you, so... he messed you up."

Nick cracked open an eye. "You worried about me that much?"

Ellis hastily pulled his hand back, with pink burning his scraped cheeks. "No! I just thought if you - I couldn't handle it if it was my fa-" his voice broke, making an ugly sound that Ellis hated. He sat up straight, trying to be more like the new person he had become. "I can't lose any more people. That's it."

Nick managed an amused expression. "Wow. I didn't know I meant so much to ya, kid."

Ellis shifted uncomfortably. He thought back to Rochelle's words and said, "You do to everyone."

It was peaceful and quiet. Nick opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, he fell into a hazy sleep.


	3. Unpleasantries

Chapter 3 - Unpleasantries

It had been nearly two weeks since Nick had almost died. In that time, Ellis had found every possible way to be awkward around him, which was a bit funny at first, but quickly became annoying. The group fixed up the clinic a bit, (which unfortunately included covering Thomas' body and removing it from the building) and barricaded the windows and other doors, while Coach tried to keep everyone alive and happy.

Well, as happy as possible, given the fact they had no direction on where to go next, and one of them was still seriously hurt, even after such a long time. He sat outside in the sun as he cleaned blood from his cricket bat and thought. Everyone was underfed and tired every day, no matter how much food they ate, or how long they slept.

The members of the group were tense and irritable, which mainly meant Ellis and Nick, but he and Rochelle were not exempt from this. Coach himself and Ellis argued a few days ago about where they should go to find food next, and Rochelle annoyedly told them both to shut the hell up.

Nick could sit up and walk around a little, but not for very long, as he got tired easily and complained that his chest hurt too much. At first, Nick was still his new self; mild and amiable, but once they ran out of codeine, he slipped back into his old ways of being rude, sour, and just unpleasant.

He had ibuprofen, but even the maximum dosage wasn't enough for the pain. One night, when Ellis was being quiet and withdrawn, Nick snapped at him. Ellis snapped back, and stormed out. He returned the next morning covered in blood. He considered how the dynamic now was very different from the time when they first met, and when they still had hope of being rescued. The fact remained that the group was in a very delicate state at the moment. But then Coach heard;

"You're just being an asshole!"

"I can't give you any more pills, you bastard!"

_**CRASH**_

Rochelle and Coach exchanged a look and hurried into the clinic to see what was going on. Nick was leaning against the wall with his right arm, while his left cradled his stomach. There were odds and ends scattered everywhere, and Ellis was holding the side of his face.

"What the hell is goin' on here?!" Coach demanded, putting on his most in-charge face. When no one said anything, Coach rolled his eyes. "Dammit Nick, what did you do? Y'all are acting like children!"

Nick glared and yelled, "I didn't do anything! This goddamn moron won't give me more medicine, and my chest hurts like hell!"

Ellis shouted back, "You already had like, twelve! You're gonna fuck up your stomach!"

Rochelle laid a gentle hand on Nick's shoulder. "Let's all relax, okay?"

When nobody said a word, she guided Nick back to his bed, and made him sit. Coach was glad for her, at least.

Everyone seemed to calm down, and Ellis turned to leave, but before he was out of earshot, he mumbled, "_Jackass_."

Then, things got a bit out of hand. Nick threw the nearest thing he could find (which was a half-empty water bottle) at the back of Ellis' head. Ellis spun around and seemed to appear at Nick's bed, arm cocked back to punch him. Nick stood and lunged, but Coach blocked them both with his taller, stronger body.

The exertion opened wounds on Nick's chest, and red stained white bandages. He fell backwards onto the bed and cried out. Coach held Ellis back, but it wasn't easy. The boy was strong as a mule, and he was furious, to say the least.

Looking back on it, Coach would realize that he had never, ever seen Ellis so angry. Eventually, the boy stopped trying to get past, and simply said, "You're a fucking asshole, Nick." as he hurried out of the building and down the street.

Later once the moon had risen, Coach and Rochelle were having a hushed conversation that Nick only caught pieces of. He tried to listen, but only heard;

"-still gone, I don't know-"

"...just angry and hurt…"

Nick turned onto his other side, a feat that was more painful than he thought, and angrily tried to fall asleep.

* * *

In the dark stairwell of a nearby apartment building, Ellis sat with his head resting against the wall. He felt angry about their fight, and embarrassed about touching Nick's hair, even though it was so long ago. Why did he have to do that, anyway? It made him cringe with humiliation.

Ellis knew that he liked Nick from the first time they met on that hotel roof. Only later did he realize how much. The very worst part of all was that he didn't even know why. Nick was handsome, but not stunningly so. He was also mean, had germaphobia, hated the South, as well as everyone who wasn't himself.

But the frown Ellis was wearing softened. Nick had changed a lot. He would be the first one to help if Ellis called. Ellis could rely on him with anything. He'd also warmed up a lot more to Ellis after the kid had to stop being one. Had to become more serious.

Just as Coach and Rochelle respected one another, Nick and Ellis had a connection, too. But the world was too dangerous now for things like that. He would have to stop feeling this way. He would close himself off, be cold and minimal. He thought of Ro and Coach again, and he would be damned if he would put them in danger with his emotions. Ellis sighed; he realized he was now a grown-up. It wasn't too much fun.

* * *

Rochelle jerked her head and exhaled in relief when she saw the young man returning to the clinic. It was early dawn, pink rosy sky, and Coach was technically on watch, but no one could sleep anyway. He opened the glass door and headed straight for Nick. Rochelle stood, because she was concerned that he might say or do something a little less than civil, but he looked her in the eyes, and she stepped back.

Nick turned to look at Ellis, saying nothing.

"I'm sorry, Nick. I kept letting my emotions get the better of me. It won't ever happen again. I just want things to be the way they were." Neither man said a word, and Ellis held out his hand for a shake. "I'm sorry." He said again.

Slowly, Nick shook his hand. "Me too." He said. Ellis turned and went down the hallway to the room he claimed. He shut the door with a soft click, and there was only silence in the summer morning.

* * *

Ellis stirred in his sleep, not quite awake yet. _I'm reaching out to save her, but she falls. I scream, but the sound is barely audible. Coach stares at me from the floor with eyes that will never see again. I look down at my hands, and they're covered in blood. Nick reaches for me, as he gets dragged away. I try to hold out my arm. I want to save him so badly, but they won't move. I can't even raise my arm to grab him. He looks at me as if to say, __**I knew it.**_

Ellis was not a young boy who woke from nightmares with a scream, covered in sweat. His eyes simply opened, but they were very wet. The sleeping bag was pulled up to his nose. He clenched his left hand tighter to stop the pain, and reminded himself to take some antibiotics later.

He stood, wearing only his jeans, because the summer was so. Unbelievably. Hot. He shrugged his shirt on, and headed to Rochelle's room. At this point, they had been living in the clinic for a month and a half, and Nick was finally better. There were six total exam rooms in the clinic, each with a soft platform that could be slept on quite nicely.

Things were so quiet here that there was no need for a guard when they slept, but Coach still had them take turns every other night. While the mood was no longer as tense and aggressive, Nick and Ellis were still not being particularly friendly to one another. No more fights, though.

Rochelle opened her door instantly, alert. Of all of them, she slept the least. "What's wrong, honey?"

His chest hitched at the pet name. "Can I uh, talk to you about something?"

She looked puzzled, but held the door open, and he ducked inside. She patted the chair across from her bed, and they sat opposite each other. She clasped her hands and waited patiently. Ellis picked at his thumbnail for a minute or so, not saying anything.

He looked up suddenly and said; "I keep having these dreams, every single night. Every time I close my eyes." He fell back into silence.

She scooted forward. "What kind of dreams?"

He looked her in the eye and his voice sent a chill down her back for some reason; "You and Coach and Nick - you die. Every night. I try to save you, but I can't. You fall away, and I could have helped you, but my arms don't work to catch you."

Rochelle frowned. "I've had dreams like that, too."

His face broke into relief. "Really?"

She nodded. "Only a few times, but I have. In your dreams, do you feel like you're completely frozen?"

"Yeah, exactly like that." He grew quieter and mumbled, "And I have something else, too. To tell you, I mean," He took a deep breath. "I kind of… like Nick."

Rochelle's eyebrows raised in surprise, but she didn't say anything immediately. She wanted him to be able to vent.

Ellis obliged. "I really don't understand it, and I wish it wasn't true. I even didn't know I was that way, either. And Nick's an ass, and I will not allow myself to put him over the lives of our family," He glanced up from looking at the floor. "But every single day that I keep it a secret, I feel like I'm burning a hole in my soul. It hurts. I had to tell you."

"Ellis, it's totally ok tha-" she took his hand, and he gasped and pulled away, interrupting her. She frowned. "Hey, let me see that." He slowly, grudgingly did.

Rochelle's mouth fell open. Ellis' left hand was a red, swollen mess with a thin piece of gauze wrapped around it. She forced him to meet her eyes. "What the hell happened?" She demanded.

"When I went to get supplies a couple days ago, I uh… got bit by one of those bastards." He said quietly. "I thought it would be fine. We're immune and stuff, right?"

She put her head in her hands. "Not to _bacterial _infection! Ellis, this is serious! We're almost out of antibiotics, and nowhere else nearby would have any!" She stood, mind racing a mile a minute.

He cradled his hand. "I thought it would heal."

She slowly turned to look at him, as a bad thought popped into her mind. "Oh my God, let me see your hand again," She gently took the bandage off, and there they were.

Little red streaks, traveling up his palm.

He looked from his hand to her face a few times. "What?"

She set her mouth in a thin line. "We need to get you antibiotics right now."


	4. Infections

Chapter 4 - Infections

"So let me get this straight. This stupid ass boy didn't know that his infected hand would swell up like a balloon and if we don't get him antibiotics, he won't last the week?" Coach said, hands on his temples. Rochelle nodded.

"Well, then we better get going."

Coach had to come up with a plan, and fast. This small town only had the clinic they were in, and no other medical facilities. They would have to go to the next town over, but their car needed gas. Siphoning from others would have to work until they got there at least. Coach closed his eyes. He didn't always love being in charge, but somebody had to do it.

"Nick and Rochelle, you two gas up the car and get it ready for a drive. Me and Ellis are going to pack up the bags and get them into the car." He looked at the young woman. "Do you know how long we might have?" She shrugged and simply said, "He needs it as soon as possible."

"Alright then, let's move!"

Ellis slammed his clothes into his bag with the hand that wasn't going to kill him. He was pissed that he had done something so stupid. He didn't care much if he died, he just didn't want the group to be down one person. They needed him.

He swore louder and louder in his mind, because he didn't want to embarrass himself further by actually yelling out loud.

A quiet knock shook him from his inner tantrum, and when he opened the door, Nick was there. His shirt was a long-sleeved gray thing that didn't seem to be very cool for the Southern air, but it looked good, at least. That was all Nick cared about, honestly.

Nick leaned against the doorframe. "We're all ready to go. When you're done, come and meet us outside okay?"

Ellis only nodded, as his jaw was clenched too tight. Nick opened his mouth as if to say something else, but thought better of it and left. Ellis rolled up his sleeping bag and zipped the backpack closed.

He clambered into the bed of the truck, and to his surprise, Nick was on the other side. He gave Ellis a smile that was not returned.

Coach turned the key and the truck rumbled down the road.

The next town was far away, and Ellis' hand was hurting like a son of a bitch. They drove through miles of nothing and more nothing, and Ellis was so bored he would rather have jumped from the truck just to have something happen. No one tried to talk much, and the wind was loud anyway, but Ellis knew that his group was worried about him, and they were scared. That was the opposite of everything he wanted to do. He glared at the land as it whipped by.

About an hour later, they arrived in the next town before the sun went all the way down, and to their dismay, there were a lot of infected in this place. They pulled the car over across from the general hospital, and Coach used his right arm to hurl a bile jar about sixty feet away.

They snuck out of the vehicle and headed toward the door, which was jammed shut. With Coach and Nick pulling on it, it eventually squeaked open.

The hospital was entirely dark and creepy inside. Coach turned to look at his group. "All right now, we're gonna split up. There don't seem to be much we can't handle in here. Ro and I are gonna check the pharmacy, and Nick and Ellis are gonna play nice and check for supply closets with bandages and alcohol and shit. Okay? Go!"

Ellis lagged behind Nick on the stairs. His hand hurt terribly. It was hard enough to shoot his pistol with one hand, but reloading was another story. Nick held the door open for him, and Ellis just gave him a neutral look. Nick scoffed and said, "You're welcome!" and let the door slam shut.

Ellis didn't say anything, but he opened a supply room door that wasn't locked. Nick followed him in, and started talking as Ellis looked through the things on the shelves, holding his flashlight in his mouth.

"You know, everything was fine until I got messed up by that hunter. Now you're weird as shit, and you act like you hate me. Why is that?" Nick sneered.

Still, Ellis remained silent, with the tips of his ears seeming to turn red. Nick struggled to control the volume of his voice. "I don't know what you think I did, but I'm sorry, okay? Can you just forgive me?" He stepped forward and put his hand on Ellis' shoulder. "I'm really sorry, El."

Nick didn't know what he expected, really. Something like, "_I'm sorry, too Nick. Let's stop being awkward,_" would have been just peachy.

But instead, Ellis turned around slowly, and took the light out of his mouth. Nick couldn't see his expression in the dark. "...You really don't get it, do you?" His voice was low, and seemed to have almost no accent at all. It _had _faded a bit, but even more so when he got quiet.

Nick tried to stop from getting angry, but a hint of it crept up into his voice. "I don't even know what you're talking about!"

"You don't! Why am I not surprised?" Ellis shouted.

Nick's heart pounded with anger as he yelled back, "Why do you hate me? What the hell did I do? I'm sorry I was an ass when my chest was ripped open, but you shouldn't-"

"_I don't hate you, you asshole!" _Ellis screamed.

There was a very awkward pause. "But then why-" Nick said, but then he thought about it, and his face grew red. "_...Oh._"

Ellis' face was much redder, though, and he tried to push past Nick, but the other man grabbed his uninjured wrist. "Wait, Ellis, why didn't-"

"I tell you? Uh, how about because it's _wrong_ and I was _embarrassed_ and-"

Nick pulled Ellis toward him, but before they could say anything else, the building shook, and they could hear gunfire from below. "Okay, to be continued, alright?" Nick said, pointing at Ellis.

"Whatever."

They both ran down the stairs to see what happened.

"We got a tank!" Rochelle cried. It was outside, hurling chunks of concrete at the group constantly. She fired her M16 until it was out of rounds, and Nick and Coach helped. "That mother's gonna come in here eventually!" Coach yelled. And true enough, it smashed one of the ceiling-height windows and started heading for them.

They shot out another window and ran into an alley across the street, with Rochelle and Coach bringing up the front, then Ellis, then Nick. The alley led to a metal door that seemed strong enough, and they were _so close._

Ellis never even saw the rock, but to be fair, Coach and Rochelle didn't either.

It sailed far above their heads in what seemed to Nick like slow motion. It slowly smashed into the brick wall above and knocked down floors of rubble and furniture. Nick called out. While Ellis didn't see what happened, he heard it, and he instinctively fell back and tried to scramble away.

He just wasn't fast enough.

The huge cement block landed squarely on his left forearm, pinning him to the ground. A few bricks fell from the top of the pile onto his chest. He screamed like Nick had never heard anyone scream, and Nick felt his mind freeze.

All he could do was stare at how Ellis' limb appeared to end at his mid-forearm. But the Tank behind him roared, and he came back to himself. He lifted his SPAS-12 shotgun and went to work. His vision was red, and he dodged all the swings the tank aimed his way. After a long time, the Tank keeled over into a bloody mess and didn't move again. Nick dropped the shotgun. It was out of ammo anyway. He didn't even feel tired. He ran to Ellis' side and called for Coach, Rochelle, anyone.

"We're going to have to go all the way around! It might take a minute, but we'll get there!" Coach yelled. Nick couldn't bring himself to respond, but the footsteps shuffled away the same.

He kneeled down and looked numbly at the young man who had, just five minutes ago, had four working limbs and been running around.

Then Nick glanced up, and saw that the pile of building parts was not stable. It looked like it was going to collapse at any minute.

Ellis looked at him, with tears falling freely from his eyes, and white dust and debris all over his face. His chest rose and fell jerkily, and Nick realized he was hyperventilating.

"Nick… it hurts!" Ellis' voice was cracking and his jaw started trembling. The tears welled up even more as he gasped for air. Nick was at a complete loss for what to do. His hands shook as he touched Ellis' face, smoothing his hair down, and touching his cheeks, murmuring that it would be okay. Ellis started sobbing when he looked down at the broken mess of rubble on his arm. "Nick! Please! Please, make it stop!"

Nick had always been pragmatic. Realistic. It was one of the things that helped him survive, and it was indeed one of his own favorite traits. In its' grounded, logical way, Nick's mind came to one conclusion.

His hand went for the machete on his belt. His fingers slowly closed around the hilt, and it slid easily out of the plastic case it went in. Ellis' eyes widened, "Nonononononononono no no!" He screamed. "Nick, no! Just shoot me! Please!"

Now that Nick knew what he had to do, he felt calm. His hand cupped Ellis' cheek to make him look in his eyes, and his thumb left traces in the dust on the skin. "Ellis, listen to me for a second," He said quietly.

Ellis gazed up at him, mouth open.

"If I don't remove your arm, you'll stay pinned under the rock until this pile of concrete and bricks falls on you. If I can get you out, you should be okay. You'll get to keep living, at the very least."

Ellis shook his head quickly. "Just...just kill me, man. I can't do it… I don't want to lose m-"

He took a deep breath. Before Ellis could fight any more, Nick said, "I love you."

Ellis looked even more shocked, somehow. "What?"

"I love you. I have for a long time, but I didn't want to make things weird, or awkward. I didn't know how to tell you."

Ellis struggled to breathe, but kept silent.

"Please let me get you out. I need you to be here. With me." Nick said.

The young man looked very conflicted. At last, he finally asked, "Will you do it fast?" Nick nodded. He would.

Nick sat up and removed his belt. He needed a tourniquet. He tightened it as tightly as he could around the lowest part of Ellis' bicep.

Ellis winced as fresh tears cleaned the dust from his face in streaks. Nick swallowed, acutely feeling the sweat on his neck and head.

There was a small area on Ellis' arm that was clear below the elbow, and above the concrete. Nick was going to have to make the cut in one motion, through bone and all. The machete was sharp, but still, he worried.

Nick stood up. "I'm going to go get some stuff. I won't take a minute. Okay?" Ellis nodded tiredly, eyes closed. This was not going to be pleasant.

The four and a half minutes that Nick was gone were the longest of Ellis' life. He faded in and out of consciousness, with waking nightmares so vivid that he couldn't tell if they were real. But gradually, he went from feeling terror to calmness. He didn't even notice when Nick came back.

Nick dumped all the stuff on the street by his patient. Where the _hell _were those two? He opened the pill bottle and shoved two into Ellis's mouth, praying it wasn't too many. He didn't have time to read the stupid label. The belt was still tight, and the skin on the young man's arm was awfully pale. Ellis looked really out of it. He lifted the arm a bit and slid a gauze pad under. He dumped alcohol on the skin and the blade, wiping the latter clean with another pad. He then did this again, as he really didn't want it to get infected.

He raised his arm. He was as ready as he would ever be. Ellis met his eyes, and slowly nodded. Nick carefully aimed where he would bring the blade down. He held his breath, and swung the machete as hard as he possibly could.

Somehow, the weapon made it all the way through the bone and muscles in a clean cut. Ellis screamed again, but now his voice was hoarse and rough, and it barely came out. The stump was bloody and disgusting, but Nick elevated it above Ellis' heart and bandaged it very tightly. The tourniquet would need to be loosened now. He wondered if it should be fully removed. Too bad he wasn't a doctor.

After a tense moment, Nick realized that Ellis was being very quiet. He pushed his ear against Ellis' chest and listened. He sat up too fast. "Oh shit, oh _shit_ _no, no, no…"_ He tore open Ellis' blue t-shirt and turned on the AED he took from the E.R.

It told him what to do, and he wiped the skin dry as best he could. He attached the pads, and set the paddles down on the left, the **chest**, and the right, the **apex**, according to the labels. He waited for it to assess, and when it said **charge recommended**, he braced himself. He squeezed the buttons on the paddles and felt Ellis jerk up and down. He looked for a heartbeat on the screen, but there wasn't one. "Damn it, work!" He shocked the younger man again. There was no movement or sound from him.

* * *

Ellis watched from far away. A part of him hoped that he would not wake up again, because here, he had two working arms, and he didn't feel hungry or sick. As he kept his gaze trained down, a female voice called out to him.

He froze, then slowly turned to see who it was.

She was standing a few feet away, and when she opened her arms, he didn't hesitate to catch her in a hug. His face was buried in her shoulder, and his throat felt tight and hot. She still smelled just like the shampoo she'd used every day. "Mom," he said thickly.

She caressed the back of his head, just like she used to when she picked him up from school when he was eight. He couldn't pretend not to cry anymore.

"Don't cry, honey." She said, but her voice sounded shaky, too.

"I missed you so much. Every single day." Ellis sobbed.

"But you made it so far. That's all I ever wanted. From the minute you were born, all I ever wanted was for you to be-" But her voice finally gave out, too, and she stopped trying to speak.

After a long time, which could have been a hundred years, she pulled away. She composed herself and smiled tearfully. "You aren't finished there. They still need you."

"But I want to stay here… I don't want to lose my arm. I don't want to never see you again." He touched his left hand.

She smiled sadly. "I don't think you have a choice."

He heard Nick yelling. He looked down and saw his body more clearly now. He was being pulled away from his mother. He was going to fall.

Ellis fought to keep his balance, but it wasn't working. He met his mother's eyes. "Will you wait for me? Will you still be here?" Even to himself, his voice grew further away and quieter.

She nodded. The light was fading.

"…"

* * *

Nick began CPR, which he still remembered from high school. After about a minute, Ellis still had no heartbeat. "Come on, please!" Nick begged and kept trying. Wait. Did his eyes just move? Nick scrambled for the monitor, and it showed a steady, if faint, heartbeat. He let out what sounded like a laugh, a choke, and a sob all together.

"Nick?"

He looked behind him. Coach and Rochelle were standing there, looking absolutely terrified. "We had to go all the way around, I'm so sorry..." Rochelle said slowly, still staring at Ellis. Coach was reloading his gun. "Nick, we gotta go, there's a shitload of them coming this way."


	5. Pink Skies

Chapter 5 - Pink Skies

_Nick is about to fall. It's pulling him away from me. His face is so scared. He reaches out to me. He wants me to catch him. I try to lift my right arm, and to my surprise, it works. I grab his hand, and he doesn't fall. I laugh. It's never worked before._

Ellis' eyes opened. It hurt less than he expected, and he was laying in the truck bed next to Nick, both of them propped on fabric for their heads and backs. It rumbled as it thundered along the road below, with a fluffy, cloudy sky above that was the color of peaches. Nick was still passed out, and as much as he tried to resist, Ellis felt his eyes close again.

When Ellis finally became conscious, his muscles were sore from disuse, and his left side was in a lot of pain. He wondered why the hell his arm felt so light. Weird. Rochelle was sitting in a chair a few feet to his left, and when she noticed that he was awake, she jumped up. "Ellis, are you okay? How are you feeling?"

He licked his dry lips. "I've been better. What the hell happened to me? I'm hungry as shit."

She bit her lip. "You don't remember anything?"

He frowned and tried to recall what happened in that hospital. It was a blur of him and Nick having a fight, then there was a tank, then… nothing.

He shook his head. "No, and also why does my hand feel like it's on fire right now? Kinda distracting, to be honest."

Rochelle had to fight to maintain her calm expression as she slowly pulled down the blanket and carefully lifted his arm.

"-and where's Coach and Nick? I swo-" Ellis froze when he saw it. Where his left hand had been for two decades ended in a sad stump that was about two or three inches from the elbow. He tried to squeeze his fingers closed. He thought he felt them, but they weren't there. He gave Rochelle a panicked look. "Wait, wait, w-what the hell happened?"

She couldn't meet his eyes.

"Rochelle?"

"You were trapped. The rubble was going to collapse on you if we didn't move you away. Nick had to get you out, and that was two days ago. And… we had to cauterize it." Rochelle wanted to tell him it would be okay. That he would be just fine without a limb. But she was the one sitting there with two hands and ten fingers, and she couldn't bring herself to lie.

Ellis looked down, as if trying to process this. He didn't say anything.

"I'm going to go get you some water and food." Rochelle sighed and walked towards the door of the motel room that Ellis only now realized they were in. Before she could close the door Ellis called, "Ro?"

"What is it, honey?"

"Where's Nick? And Coach?"

"In their rooms. I'll tell Nick to come see you in a bit."

She closed the door and put her face in her hands. Goddammit. She always had to be the one to give the bad news.

* * *

Nick knocked quietly on the door, and when there was no answer, he slowly eased it open. The room was very dark, but he could see Ellis was sleeping on the ugly quilted bed. His eyes began to adjust after he closed the door behind him, and slowly walked to the other end of the room.

In what little light there was from the moon outside, Nick looked at the sleeping man's face. He was thin, and terribly pale. There were dark circles under his eyes, too. His chest moved minimally, and faster than it should have. Nick picked at his own sleeve, and sat in the chair next to the bed.

His eyes traced Ellis' jawline, and his Adam's apple, which stuck out more than it did when he was heavier. His lips were horribly chapped, and there was a bit of blood on the lower one. Nick leaned a bit closer to look at a small scar on his forehead that he had never noticed. Despite all this, Ellis still looked handsome.

_Lucky bastard_, Nick smiled faintly.

Right on cue, Ellis' eyes shot open and he squeezed them shut again.

"Ellis?" Nick asked.

"Nick..."

Nick scooted his chair closer. "I'm here."

Ellis took a long pause before saying more. "I'm sorry, Nick."

Nick blinked. "Why the hell are you sorry?"

Ellis' eyes looked suspiciously damp. "I was a real jerk to you. I didn't mean to be, but-"

"Whoa, if anyone was a jerk, it was me. You got nothing to apologize for. Me on the other hand..." Nick cleared his throat. "I… I'm so sorry about - what I had to do. It's awful, and I can understand if you're pissed at me, so-"

Ellis chuckled patiently and interjected, "I'm not pissed at you. You saved my life, dumbass."

Nick averted his eyes. "But maybe if I had been able to pull you away, then you wouldn't have gotten…" His voice sounded weird, so he stopped.

Ellis wanted to fill the silence.

"...Can I tell you about some dreams I had?" he asked softly.

"Were they the _fun _kind?" Nick teased, despite everything.

"No," Ellis took a shaky breath. "Every single night I dreamed that you died. Coach and Rochelle, too. You were going to fall, and I tried to catch you, but my arms wouldn't move. But… now I think it was the other way around, after all. I was the one falling. _You_ were trying to save _me_."

Nick was surprised. "...And did I ever catch you?" He eventually managed.

Ellis smiled, really smiled, which he so rarely did. His face lit up and he didn't look thin, or sick. He just finally looked like himself again. "Yeah. You did. In the end."

Nick didn't know when he moved, but he was suddenly there, kissing Ellis on the lips. He didn't care that they both were dirty, and weak, and smelled like a boomer that shit itself.

Ellis lifted his left arm to touch Nick's face, but he caught himself quickly and smiled against the other man's mouth. Nick noticed, and drew back a little, as if he was worried. Ellis shook his head and leaned forward so that Nick couldn't leave.

Not that he wanted to.

* * *

Rochelle and Coach sat in the kitchen area of the motel at a wooden, round table. She tried not to say it, but it just came out; "Did you know about Nick and Ellis?"

Coach looked at her and laughed. "Hell yeah, I knew. You didn't? Aren't y'all females supposed to know that kinda stuff?"

Rochelle was shocked. "What?! How in the _hell _di-"

He cut her off with a wave of his hand and a smug smile. "I coached hormonal kids for fifteen years. I know when they got a crush on somebody."


	6. Epilogue - One Year Later

Epilogue - One Year Later

It was the very end of autumn in Glenwood Springs, Colorado. There was a hint of icy frost on the wind as Ellis and Nick made their way along the mountain road. The trees were enjoying the last rays of orange light before the sun vanished.

Ellis was to Nick's left, because that was the only way they could hold hands and walk. Sadly, as cool as it sometimes was to Ellis that he had a stumpy arm, it freaked the others out a little. They hid it well enough, though Ellis could tell. But at least it was fun to mess with them.

Nick squeezed his gloved hand. "What's up?"

Ellis gave him a crooked grin and held up his left arm. "I'm good. Oh, this is a thumbs up, by the way."

Nick laughed.

"Yeah, but it's still hard to open bottles of water. And jars. And cans. And put pants on, but I only do that one for society's benefit, anyway." Ellis lamented.

Nick wrapped his arm around Ellis' waist. "Maybe you could rethink that last one." he said with a smirk.

Ellis' goofy face got red and he also grabbed Nick's waist.

They fell into a comfortable silence as they turned up the drive to the large, multimillion dollar home that the group had "borrowed" for now. There was a generator in the basement that worked well, and the yellow glow of the lights in the early evening was pleasant and comforting. Along the way, they ran into Louis and Francis yet again, the survivors from the bridge, and their spirits were so broken from losing both Bill and Zoey that it didn't take any convincing to get them to come with to Colorado, where Nick had grown up.

Sure it was cold here, but the air was clear and it was isolated enough that the biggest event that ever happened was a raccoon coming to the backyard.

Ellis was stopped from walking up the drive by the hand on his side. He looked back, surprised, but Nick held a finger to his mouth and pointed. Ellis squinted, and his face fell into a smile.

A deer was walking about fifty feet away, into the wooded area surrounding everything. It gracefully made its way through the trees without bumping its antlers on them, which looked to Nick that it would have been difficult.

Ellis leaned his head on Nick's shoulder and sighed. "I love you, even though you're high maintenance," Ellis said, almost so quiet that Nick couldn't hear. Nick put his hand in the pocket of Ellis' orange coat and replied, "I love you too, even though you're a hillbilly redneck."

They stood there for a while, even after the deer left, and the last blue light disappeared from the mountains.

END

This is the first story I'm publishing on this site. I will maybe make a sequel in the future, if people like this story. I know that this game has been out for a very long time now, but I played it again and I still love it. Thanks!


End file.
